


Progress

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy, M/M, i just got Pretty Damn Emotional and wrote this at 1 am pretty much, is this ooc? who KNOWS!!! welcome to hell it probably is and im sorry, this is really short fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens share two kisses, 240 years apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

> uhh h h so im sorry if this is ooc i wrote it in under 15 minutes at one a.m. so i mean i tried to fix it but hell
> 
> in the modern part, alex is dating both eliza and john with all parties communicating and consenting btw. eliza and john are fairly good friends but arent romantically involved at all (a large reason for that being that john laurens is gay and u can fight me). 
> 
> anyway pls leave kudos if u liked it. comments/concrit are appreciated too of course

_1776\. New York City._ Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens part from a kiss. They lean against the wall behind a tavern and Alexander smooths John’s hair from its tousled state. He looks at John like the man is his whole world, lips parting slightly in a smile. John smiles back, a hint of sadness in the beautiful grin that stretches his freckled cheeks just a bit less than usual.

“I wish we could live freely,” John says, breaking the relative silence as he takes Alexander’s hand in his.

“You wish that for many,” Alexander points out, squeezing his hand.

John nods. “Yes,” he agrees, “but in this case I wish somewhat differently. I wish --” he sighs, breaking himself off and then continuing. “I wish I didn’t have to burn half the letters you’ve sent me even in the brief time we’ve known each other. I wish we didn’t have to hide out here when we…” He pauses again, then continues once again. “I wish I hadn’t been taught from the cradle that what we do is a sin. I wish…” John trails off.

“I know,” Alexander sighs. Then, somewhat reluctantly, “Let’s go back in. The others will worry if we’re gone too long.”

John nods. They drop each other’s hands and fix their cravats, walking back into the tavern through separate entrances.

 

 _2016\. New York City._ Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens part from a kiss. They are sitting on a park bench in Central Park, watching the occasional foolish, bundled-up jogger go by on the possibly icy sidewalk. Alexander clutches a coffee in both his hands, trying to warm them. He wears a monumentally ugly - but warm - plaid coat, what looks to be two hoodies layered on top of each other, and a colorful scarf (courtesy of his girlfriend Eliza’s sister Peggy’s girlfriend Maria - a lavish Christmas gift for such a distant relation, but then, the Schuyler Christmas party guest list was rather expansive); Laurens, a thick cardigan over a sweatshirt emblazoned with the words “BLACK LIVES MATTER” and a pair of sturdy earmuffs.

John leans in close to Alex’s ear. “Great idea you had, a park date in mid-January.”

Alex shrugs. “Seemed that way at the time. Wanna go sit down somewhere inside instead?”

John nods fervently, so they get up and make their way to a little independent bookstore about ten minutes away.  “I can never escape South Carolina,” John remarks on his intolerance for the cold as they walk.

They enter the bookshop with the wind and - thankfully light - snow at their heels. Only inside, they settle down on an ottoman and browse the books for awhile - rather, Alexander browses from his seated position and John slides himself into Alex’s arms to gaze at the same row of ten or so books. As the snowflakes that have settled in his curly hair are melting, he bumps the top of his head against Alex’s chin. “Hey,” he says, breaking the silence. “You know what?”

Alex is squinting up at a book on LGBT+ US history, trying to make out the author’s name, but he turns his face down to kiss the top of John’s head. “What?” he says into John’s hair.

“We could get married,” John says, and Alex can hear the grin in his voice. “At any time. Not that I’d put you in the position to have to choose between me and Eliza like that,” he amends quickly, “but, y’know. The fact that we - and, and so many other couples like us, holy shit - can just get married now? That couples who have been waiting for this together for thirty years, twenty-odd-year-old pairs of boyfriends, girlfriends, datefriends, who feel like marriage is just the thing to do at their extremely young juncture in life - _us,_ even - can get a license and have a big cliche wedding or a quiet family ceremony or one of those hipster outdoor weddings with the mason jars full of lights that look like fireflies. That’s pretty damn cool.” He frowns suddenly. “I’m not sure where all that came from so suddenly. Am I making sense?”

Alex smiles. “Yeah,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around his John Laurens a little bit tighter. “You are.”


End file.
